


The Storm

by dara3008



Series: Rachel In The Darkroom [1]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Just a general warning for Mark Jefferson, M/M, Nathan is 17 when Jefferfuck kisses him for the first time, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Underage Kissing, because we all need one, chose not to add the warning because its only hinted at but still be warned, he gets what he deserves in the other story from the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 04:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13919724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dara3008/pseuds/dara3008
Summary: If Nathan were to tell someone how exactly he had gotten here, he wouldn’t really know where to begin. Three moments came to his mind:- Samantha stopped hanging out with him.- more and more pills were introduced to his prescription- Mark Jefferson came into his lifeThe last was probably the one that sealed his fate.---Both games' events from Nathan's point of view and prequel to "Warren To The Rescue".General background to the character of Nathan Prescott.





	The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be safe, here a foreword:  
> I, in now way, excuse Nathan's actions in Life is Strange, he was irrational and unstable. But that is the thing, he was unstable as one clearly gets to know in both games. He was on drugs from a young age on, drugs his father more or less fed him himself.  
> Jefferson used him for the dirty work, actively playing into Nathan's daddy issues. While the game doesn't hint at a sexual relationship between them at all, I really wouldn't put it past Jefferson to go there.
> 
> So yeah, Nathan is a messed up character who made a lot of bad decisions in his life.  
> Here's my take on why.
> 
> WARNING:  
> Again, I didn't use the archive warnings, but the fic contains a non-graphic, non-consesual sex scene. It's only hinted at, but its there so be cautious, peeps.

If Nathan were to tell someone how exactly he had gotten here, he wouldn’t really know where to begin. Three moments came to his mind:

Samantha stopped hanging out with him after getting together with the Nerd Queen Steph. Not in a mean way, Samantha was incapable of being anything but immensely sweet. No, their lives just... parted. With Nathan in the Vortex Club and Samantha so far out of it, she probably didn’t even know it existed, they just didn’t have any time to hang out anymore. It’s not like he was pissed at her. No he was happy, really. She deserved to be happy. And if he felt more alone than ever, it was okay, because Sam was happy. Really.

Then his father got into more and more fights with his psychiatrist. Nathan got prescribed more and more pills, and while his doctor was shaking her head in guilt, Sean Prescott had the power, no matter where. Nathan didn’t really care all that much. The pills numbed the feelings in him, silenced the thoughts, stopped the nightmares. In fact, he barely slept at all these days. It was great. Not sleeping meant great shots in the dark on campus, homework always ready when needed, no time wasted really. It was great. And if he felt sluggish and barely conscious most of the time... well it wasn’t like anyone cared. Not even him.

A cold feeling grabbed him when he thought about the third moment. The moment that probably sealed his fate was when his father had introduced him to Mark fucking Jefferson. His idol, his ultimate inspiration. And god was he handsome. If Nathan hadn’t known already that he definitely held hard ons for men and not women he would have known right then, with his hand locked with his new teacher’s. And Jefferson had smiled at him, so sincerely and openly. Had praised his photography skills. Had put his hand on Nathan’s shoulder gently and squeezed in encouragement. And Nathan had been a goner right then and there.

 How he wished he could turn back time.

\---

Really, it all started with the first time he had had The Dream. The dream of the storm, huge and devastating, ripping Arcadia Bay right out of existence. He had been 11 when he had the dream for the first time. It had been a year later when he had finally timidly told his mother about it because it just wouldn’t stop. But his mother had told his father and if there was something his father hated it was weakness. So Nathan was 12 when he got his first sleeping pills prescribed. They didn’t help; if anything they made The Dream more vivid. The third time his father had woken up to his cries in his sleep, he had dragged him to his first visit to a psychiatrist. The man, old and white haired, had been reluctant at first, not trained in handling kids, but Nathan had learned early on in life that money solved a lot of things.

He was forced to talk about his dreams and fears to a man who barely had any patience for him at all. So he got prescribed more pills.

On his 14th birthday his friend Justin gave him his first cigarette. An hour later he tried his first joint. He figured out quickly that he entered a happy place whenever he mixed the weed with his other pills.

By the age of 16 Nathan was taking several kinds of sleeping pills, different anti depressants and several antipsychotics. Did they help? Probably not. Did they numb everything so it was bearable? Fuck yes. And his father wouldn’t care if they didn’t help anyway. He would just throw more money at the problem. His mother... Let’s just say Nathan was happy when he saw her sober at least once a week.

The Dream was still there, now accompanying his sleep for 5 years. He didn’t startle awake anymore or cry. Again, he really tried not to sleep at all. The Adderall he didn’t need helped with that.

When he was 16 he met Samantha in his history class. She was a soft spoken girl, gentle smile always on her face. At first he thought he was in love with her, but that thought quickly vanished when he realised he just didn’t... dig girls like that. The feelings people described when talking about love were different. Honestly, he felt more like the descriptions in songs when Hayden gave him the time of the day. With Samantha it was more a sense of security. She was safe. And she was so so generous, it almost drove him crazy. He didn’t know how to react to her at all. So he fucked it up as he usually did.

While she only tried to help him, he kept pushing her away and yet she never faltered. When Chloe stood up to his father and he saw that they had both heard their conversation, he was so embarrassed that he quickly left into the changing room with a shouted curse. Why? Why did he always have to be so weak? He seriously thought about just leaving the play but then Samantha had come again and had helped him again and finally he admitted to himself that he needed someone like her in his life. So he nailed his performance and she waited for him after. He was happy, for the first time in forever.

They spent a lot of time together after everything. Mostly just reading in each other’s company or walking around campus so Nathan could snap pictures. It was when he had asked her to pose for one that the accident happened. He just hadn’t seen the biker, he should have seen him! But Sam never blamed him. She was only happy that he visited her in the hospital.

He did love her, in a way. She was like a sister he never had. And thankfully she felt the same way about him, being more into her own gender as well.

They had a good friendship going, serving as an anchor to Nathan’s instability.

But then she started to spend more and more time with Steph and Mikey, a party Nathan just wasn’t welcomed in. He couldn’t blame them really; the Norths had lost a lot because of the Prescott name. No one really cared that Nathan had nothing to do with his father’s business.

And then, when he was 17 and alone again, Nathan met Mark Jefferson. Mark Jefferson who took an interest in him and his talent. Who didn’t take any money from Nathan’s father, or so he thought. Who was gentle with him, praised him, encouraged him.

Mark was everything Nathan ever wanted and wanted to be. He was successful, adored and stable in his life. He was a visionary and an amazing teacher. Nathan felt himself improve immensely the more he spent time with the man. He received praise, positive criticism, a pat on the back, a hand petting his hair. The attention felt amazing.

When Jefferson started to invite Nathan to tea every other night, he was more than willing to come. He even received a phone, especially for texts and calls from Mark. Looking back he should have realised that his episodes of memory loss started at about the same time, should have realised that something wasn’t right. But Jefferson’s words and texts clouded his mind just as much as the drugs in the tea did. Nathan was hopelessly devoted to the man half a year later, willing to do anything for him.

The first time Mark slapped him, Nathan was completely sure that it was his own fault. They had had a fight about some of the pictures Nathan had taken of Sam, Sam and Steph and even one of Chloe and Rachel Amber. _They aren’t good enough, Nathan! You need to focus on your talents! Mindless pictures of pretty girls are not your strong suit, you know that._ Nathan had been dumb enough to disagree, to insist on liking the pictures. The slap had shocked him silent, tears stinging in his eyes. No one except for his father had ever hit him. How could... But the next second he was being drawn into a warm hug, a hand running gently through his hair. _I’m sorry, Nathan. I really am. But you need to learn to listen, you need to trust my judgement._

And that was it, Nathan thought as he nodded **Yes** and hugged Jefferson back tightly, afraid to be left alone again. He would be good. He would be _good._

It did not stop there. The first time Nathan confessed to his memory loss episodes, Jefferson had shaken his head at him in disappointment and Nathan had felt crazy again. _Twitch_ , he thought Drew had called him. Bad dreams and memory loss were weaknesses, Nathan wasn’t supposed to admit to weaknesses. Mark had patted his cheek twice, hard. _You’re paranoid, Nathan. Stop._ Feeling embarrassed Nathan had nodded and Mark had smiled at him. _Good boy._ That was the first time Mark had kissed him. On the forehead but a kiss none the less. His lips had been cold and comforting.

Then came the first rejection. Nathan had wanted to meet with Jefferson to discuss a project when the teacher had closed the door in his face with a clipped _Not now, Nathan._ A girl was with him in the room. Rachel Amber. And for the first time, Nathan felt hatred towards another student.

The next day Mark acted like nothing had happened, inviting Nathan for tea over text again. Hurt, but too eager to please Nathan had accepted of course. But Rachel Amber was in the room again with Jefferson, drinking his tea. Nathan had hesitated but Jefferson had dragged him in none to gently and seated him next to the girl. It was torture. Nathan felt replaced and rejected and just sick to the stomach the whole time.

When Rachel left, Jefferson leaned against his desk and beckoned Nathan to him. When he was within arms’ length Jefferson pulled him close into a hug. Hungry for the attention Nathan sank into it without hesitation. _I need you to do something for me, Nathan. Will you help me?_ Nodding immediately he was rewarded with another kiss to the head. _Good boy. I need you to befriend Rachel, Nathan._ His protests were stopped before they could leave his mouth by a tight squeeze. _Now don’t be jealous, my boy, she is just a project. Do you understand? I need you to befriend her for a project._ Involuntary tears welled up in Nathan’s eyes, half relieved and half distraught. **He had thought he was Mark’s project**. He must have spoken out loud because Jefferson hummed. _But you are so much more than a project to me, you know that right? You know that I love you right?_

And of course Nathan loved him back. How could he not?

That was the first time he had really kissed him. Now Nathan got sick thinking about hat moment. Then, he melted into it, melted into the warmth of Mark Jefferson.

\---

Befriending Rachel Amber came with the addition of her in The Dream. No matter what he did during the storm, The Dream always ended with Rachel dead in his arms. Always dead. In his arms.

It was insane how quickly his hatred turned to love. Rachel was just perfect. Not perfect in the traditional sense, but she got Nathan unlike anyone has ever had. And Nathan got her, got her crazy family dynamic, got her feelings of loss and lost. They complemented each other. She was a good friend, such a good person.

And then Jefferson asked him to bring her to the Prescott bunker. The bunker had been a meeting place for him and Mark for a few months already, perfect for staged pictures. The first time Rachel accompanied him, everything was good. Mark asked them to pose for a few pictures and he even kissed Nathan in front of Rachel who promised to never tell on them. It was fun. They repeated this a few times and Nathan was ecstatic to share their relationship with someone he could talk to.

But one day he woke up with another memory gap. That, and a picture of him sleeping on the white tarp in the bunker, an equally asleep Rachel under his arm. For the first time the memory loss caused him to panic. They both looked dead in the picture. White, pale and dead.

Rachel, dead in his arms. A sob escaped him and he muffled it with his hand.

Why didn’t he remember this picture?

When he asked Mark about it, it was the first time that the man full on hit him. Not a slap or a sharp pat to the cheek, but a punch to his stomach that left him heaving. _What did I tell you about questioning my judgement? And about being paranoid, Nathan, huh? Why do you insist on making me do those things?_ Tears and apologies fell as soon as the pain allowed him to breathe. Jefferson sighed disappointedly and reached for him. Kissing him hard on the mouth he patted his cheek. _I know you are, baby. Just don’t do it again._ **I won’t** , Nathan whimpered, **I promise I won’t**.

**Just please continue loving me.**

For the first time the word love, came bitterly in his mind. Was this really what love felt like? But Jefferson was so proud of him usually. So good to him. He just had to obey, he just had to be good.

But being good was the last thing on his mind when they entered the bunker that night. Rachel was still in the same position on the tarp as she was on the picture. She wasn’t breathing. **She isn’t breathing.**

Mark sighed again and shook his head when Nathan started to panic at her side. _But don’t you remember, my boy? She overdosed yesterday. You gave her the drugs, how can you not remember?_ No. **No No No.** This was all wrong, he didn’t... he couldn’t... Oh but he didn’t remember, did he?

 _Nathan, baby, be a good boy and drink this, come on._ He tried to protest, tried to resist, but Jefferson held his chin firmly and used his strength to force his mouth open as he filled something cold into his mouth. The rest of the night was a blurr. He remembered being forced into Jefferson’s car and barely remembers blurred images of a junkyard. He remembered Jefferson’s hands on his torso, as he manhandled him out of the car and he remembered lying on something cold, with a weight on his stomach.

He didn’t remember how he got home. He wasn’t sure if everything that had happened wasn’t a dream. He was sure however when the missing posters started to appear and he was sick with the knowledge that it was all his fault.

Rachel Amber was dead. Dead in his arms. He had burned the picture the minute he was alone.

\---

He tried to stay clear of Jefferson, he did. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe that the man actually cared about him anymore. He had been used. Used and... drugged. The tea had been drugged and he had been so so stupid.

But Jefferson wasn’t done with him. He hunted him down in his dorm and cornered him. _You think you can just ignore me, Nathan? You think I will let you walk away after what you did? Oh my stupid boy, use your head. I am not nearly done with you._ He had kissed him again, all force and coldness, Nathan limp in his arms. Maybe this is what he deserved? Maybe this was inevitable. The people who cared about him left in one way or another. Maybe Jefferson was what he deserved. So he didn’t protest much when Mark Jefferson pushed him onto his bed and climbed in after him. He didn’t protest much when he removed his clothes.

He didn’t feel anything. And when Jefferson was done and fished out a syringe, he didn’t protest either. He fell into a deep sleep, only to wake up alone and feeling like dirt.

\---

Drugging Kate at the Vortex Club Party was too easy and Nathan wasn’t surprised anymore how easy it had been for Mark to drug him. He didn’t know Kate much, just knew that she was very faithful and very sweet. He felt sick when some of the boys started to touch her up and he felt even sicker when they thought he was about to do the same when he took her away. Knowing what was about to happen to her, Nathan had given her more than he was supposed to, begging for her to just lose consciousness and never know what had happened. He closely observed her, afraid that she might... that he might have...

Getting her into the bunker was easy, watching Mark take pictures was not. He had to pose in a few, had to play along. Jefferson was still as touchy as usually, but instead of feeling the warmth as before, Nathan just felt sick sick sick.

He closed himself off in his room and cried when he realised that someone had leaked a video of Kate at the Party. His fault. Everything his fault. Kate, Rachel... Oh god Rachel.

\---

Victoria Chase became his new best friend. After a friendly rivalry for years, he finally got to know her for real. She was head strong, didn’t care for his bullshit and didn’t care for his parents. She just liked his dark humour, she admitted. And his pretty face, but he wasn’t sure what to do with that information. He posed for her pictures a few times, some amazing, some never allowed to see the light of day again. Specifically the one where she forced him into a short, tight dress and a pair of her highest heels. Not that the picture wasn’t also amazing, because let’s face it, Victoria was amazing, but if it ever landed in the hands of his father he would be done for.

Victoria Chase was also one of Kate’s biggest bullies. Nathan once tried to talk her out of it, but she only asked him if he had a crush on _Church Girl_. He didn’t. Which resulted in his coming out to the second person in his life. The first being Samantha. Jefferson didn’t count. Jefferson never counted anymore. Vic just gushed at him and told him to always come to her with boy problems. He had laughed a little hysterically at that.

The thing was, Nathan loved Victoria, she was there for him, she didn’t think his coping mechanisms were weird, she didn’t judge him for his prescriptions and other pills. She shared his love for whale songs. He dearly loved her.

Which is why he felt like Jefferson had punched him in the gut when the teacher asked him to introduce Vic to the bunker. **No. Not Victoria. Not her please.** More bruises joined the one on his stomach after that, harder and harder kisses joined as well, diminishing any memory he had of the few gentle ones. But no. **Not Victoria.**

\---

That day he received the first text from Chloe Price. _Dear old Francis wants his money Presbitch. I’m the collector._

Any other day he would have laughed it off. Would have taken the money straight to his dealer without a problem. But Jefferson had talked to his father a few days prior. Had informed him of Nathan’s inability to cooperate, his _improper manners_ and Sean Prescott had reacted by cutting his allowance short. Nathan simply didn’t have the money.

So now his worry about Victoria, his fear of Jefferson and his overall guilt was joined by a rising dread that he couldn’t pay his fucking dealer. He fisted his hands into his hair and thought.

Nathan had found the gun in his father’s office on break a year ago. Had snatched it and forgotten about it, but now he remembered it and gently pulled it out of its hiding place. What had his life become? Anxiety and panic worked together and he stuffed the gun into the inside pocket of his red jacket. Another text blinked. _Girl’s bathroom. Now._

The fire alarm, though startling, was a god sent. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have shot that gun. Wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have shot Chloe Price, who had helped him more than he deserved a few years ago. The alarm sounded and he ran off, straight to his room.

Chloe Price joined his Dream. As did new girl Maxine Caulfield. If The Dream hadn’t made sense before, now it did even less. What did Max have to do with anything?

That was of course, before Max confronted him about the gun and Chloe. How the fuck did she find out? He tried intimidating her, but she bitched right back. When he got physical a guy he fleetingly knew jumped into her defence. On a roll Nathan head butted him to the ground. Chloe appeared again and Nathan tried to go after both of them, but the guy – Warren or something – held him back, so he punched him. Chloe and Max were gone by then, and soon David Madsen arrived on the scene. To Nathan’s surprise Warren said nothing was wrong, just a slight disagreement. With no complaint from the younger, Madsen had no choice but to dismiss them with a few chosen stern words. Nathan only sneered at him and left the other on the floor.

Soon Nathan noticed that Jefferson had a particular interest in Max. An interest close to Rachel. So he tried to be as mean to her as possible, especially after he noticed that she was friends with Chloe. He tried to give Jefferson no opportunity to ask about Max, tried to act like she didn’t exist, so that Jefferson would have no excuse to use him again.

Nathan just wanted for it all to stop. He just wanted everything to stop.

\---

It was fine for a while. It was fine until he found Chloe and Max snooping around in the Prescott Dormitory. For a second he panicked, thinking back about the picture of him and Rachel. He had burned it, he knew, he had burned it. But then he saw the phone; Jefferson’s phone in Chloe’s hands and freaked. He tried to attack them, but then Warren turned up yet again. This time though, this time he didn’t hold back one bit.

Flashbacks to his father and to Jefferson froze Nathan up and when Graham was done with him he was just a sobbing mess on the floor. **I’m sorry! Please... I’m sorry, please.**

Chloe and Max ran and Warren stood over him for a few seconds more before turning tail and running back to his room presumably. It was then that Nathan noticed the gun was missing. Fuck. Probably better in the long run.

\---

Jefferson, having found him in his room, only added to the bruises. A slap for losing the phone, a punch for not stopping the girls, a kick to the stomach for _being a fucking pussy. Huh, Prescott?? Suddenly you’re not all high and mighty! This will all get back to you, Nathan, no one will believe you! No one will ever believe you. This is all your fault, everything is your fault. Rachel Amber, Kate Marsh and once I’m done with little Maxine Caulfield and Chloe Price, they will be your fault as well._

Nathan was a crying mess by then. **I don’t care! I don’t care anymore. I just want it to stop. I just want everything to stop.**

Mark leaned over him and pulled him up by his jacket lapels. _Yes, my dear boy, it will all be over soon._ A bruising kiss, followed by another slap. _I will soon be out of here and you? You will go straight to prison for murder and kidnapping._

A clothe was held to his mouth and slowly Nathan sank into oblivion. His fault... everything his fault.

\---

The storm was bigger than ever. Nathan stood, dripping wet next to the light house. In front of him were Rachel, Kate, Chloe and Max, holding hands and staring at him. He tried to warn them, to tell them to run. But his voice never reached them, never even left his mouth. The lighthouse tumbled down burying them all underneath.

Nathan cried and cried and cried...

\---

When he finally woke up again, it was to Warren’s worried face of all things.


End file.
